


Longing

by robinsgotham



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Art Shows, Breakfast, DickDamiWeek 2017, First Time, Fluffy Ending, Forbidden, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, art as a plot device, idk man, welcome aboard the trash train!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinsgotham/pseuds/robinsgotham
Summary: There was nothing inappropriate about going to a student’s art showing. Nothing at all.





	Longing

**Author's Note:**

> For DickDamiWeek 2017, Day 3: Forbidden :)
> 
> Also I'm not American so I don't know anything about the school system please ignore any obvious mistakes regarding that, lmao.

Damian Wayne was Dick’s best student, by far.

His AP English class was usually his least favourite to teach. Sure, the material was more interesting and the students more engaged, but it was more draining, and often just plain difficult, even for him. But Damian, from the first time he walked in like he owned the place, had always made things more interesting.

Even for an AP student, Damian’s questions and theories were advanced and interesting. Dick often felt like he learned more from Damian than Damian learned from him. It was the last class before lunch, too, so sometimes after the bell Damian would stay behind and talk to him in more detail about whatever that day’s class subject had been.

After, Dick realized that was when it started. A small part of him wanted to rationalize it with that, too. He had never seen Damian as a kid; he felt like he was still in college, and Damian was his peer.

It was no excuse. But it didn’t matter. It had still happened.

*

“Mr. Grayson?”

Dick looked up from the stacks of the pop quiz he’d been grading. He was a little surprised to see Damian; it was almost four on a Friday, and the school was empty of those not involved in extracurriculars — which he knew Damian wasn’t on any day except Tuesday.

“Hey, Damian. Did you have a question about the quiz? Sorry to spring it on you guys, but I’m supposed to do at least a few. Preparation and all.”

Damian snorted. “Tt. Of course not. It was easy. I just wanted to ask if you had plans for Saturday night.”

Dick felt his eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. Sure, he’d wagered a guess about Damian’s sexuality, and a guess that the kid had a crush on him… but he didn’t think any student would be that blatant about asking him out. He opened his mouth to let Damian down gently when Damian continued.

“My work is going to be in an art show. We’ve talked about it before, in the context of a few novels, so I wondered if you’d like to see some of it.”

Oh. Right. Dick was glad he hadn’t embarrassed himself there. “Oh! I think I’m free. Where is it?”

“I can text it to you. What’s your number?”

It wasn’t until his phone buzzed ten minutes later with an address, time, and request that he give his name to the people at the door that he realized he’d broken a personal rule and given his number to a student. But, he thought as he typed “Damian Wayne” into a new contact, it didn’t really matter, anyway — they were friends, in some strange way. As long as it stayed like this, it would be fine.

There was nothing inappropriate about going to a student’s art showing. Nothing at all.

*

Dick spent almost an hour figuring out what to where to the gallery. He’d googled the address and discovered that this was a big event — not surprising, considering who Damian’s father was. Damian was also selling his art, which Dick would have almost been excited over if he didn’t know that the pieces in that gallery were probably selling for more than he made in a year.

Anyway, he didn’t have a tux, which seemed like it would be suitable for the event, so he put on his nicest dark jeans and a nice suit jacket and hoped to God that he didn’t look like an underdressed idiot. The event was also selling tickets for _almost_ his yearly salary. He really, really hoped that Damian knew he wouldn’t be able to afford that, but you never knew with rich people.

He just hoped Damian had decided to use a comp on him. Hopefully.

The valet took away his twenty-year-old, second-hand car once he got there, and he shuffled in shame to the back of the line. He luckily wasn’t quite as undressed as he’d worried — many of the patrons seemed to be dressed similarly to him — but he still felt like a bit of a slob, especially when he gave his name at the head of the line, and the lady taking tickets looked him over with a clearly both critical and judgmental eye before digging his ticket out of a pile of reserved and pre-paid tickets.

Glad to be over the ordeal, Dick went inside. He spotted Damian’s section almost immediately by seeing Damian himself talking to an older woman holding a champagne glass. Damian was wearing his usual dark green hoodie and jeans, which admittedly made Dick feel a little better about his own outfit.

He hovered for a few moments before Damian happened to glance over and see him, and he convinced himself that the sudden tightening in his stomach had nothing at all to do with the way Damian’s face seemed to light up with a smile when he saw Dick. He made a “come over” gesture, and Dick made his way over to the display as the older woman shook Damian’s hand and wandered off to another display.

“You actually came.” Damian sounded almost shocked, and his face betrayed his emotions, too — happy, but vulnerable. He hadn’t really expected Dick to show, it seemed.

“Of course. I’d love to see your art. This is it?”

“Yes!” Damian turned and gestured towards the first, a realistic portrait of a robin in the sun. “I paint a lot of animals, like this one — or this one—” he gestured to another, a black cat in a fresh snowfall with its face pointed towards the sky “—but some more abstract, as well.”

The other two paintings on display were both splashed with colour and emotion, the randomness somehow intense, pulling at Dick’s soul. He didn’t know much about art, but he felt his heart in his throat as he looked at the most intense of the abstract two. It was red and gold and hints of blue, bleeding heartache and longing.

“They’re beautiful.” Damian beamed at his words, though he was sure Damian would have denied it to his grave.

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Grayson, is it?”

Dick glanced to the side and managed to keep himself from jumping upon recognizing Bruce Wayne. “Uh — yes, Mr. Wayne.” He shook the hand Bruce had offered him. “Glad to meet you.”

“Damian has been raving about your teaching ability. I’m glad you could come, I’m sure he appreciates it.” Damian turned red as Bruce spoke, and Bruce smiled at his son.

“It was no trouble at all. I’m glad I could see Damian’s art. He’s one of my best students.” Dick let go of Bruce’s hand, hoping he hadn’t held on too long. His knowledge of handshake etiquette was probably somewhat lacking.

“That’s always good to hear. Anyway, Damian, I hear you have an offer? For _Longing_?” He gestured at the painting Dick had noticed, the red and gold.

Damian’s face was almost as red as the paint. “Yes. I was hoping you could arrange it, I know very little about art sales.”

Bruce chuckled. “Of course. I’ll leave you be with your art.” He vanished into the crowd. Dick was somewhat surprised that such a large man could melt into the background so quickly.

Dick turned back to Damian, who seemed to be staring very intently at the wall. “Your art really is good,” Dick told him. “I mean, I don’t know much about art, but it’s the real deal. Emotions and all that. You’re pretty damn good, kid.”

Damian went even redder. “Thank you, Mr. Grayson. I suppose I should let you enjoy your night?”

 _I only came for you_ , Dick wanted to say, but that definitely wasn’t appropriate. So he nodded, and went to look at some of the other art. Somehow, none of it seemed to hold the same emotion as Longing, no matter how good they were. None of them tugged at his heart in the same way. None of them made him feel as though he was perched on the edge of a precipice, his heart in his throat and his blood alive with fire.

*

It was nearly midnight and the party was winding down when he found Damian again. He hadn’t let himself go near Damian before that, sure that someone would pick up on the blatant favouritism. Damian seemed tired, a little deflated, but he smiled as soon as he saw Dick.

“All my paintings got sold,” he said. “Or, well, offers. I’m not sure I’ll let go of them all.”

“Yeah? Too sentimental?”

“I suppose.”

They stood there for a moment, almost awkwardly, when Damian suddenly said, “Would you like to go outside? It’s hot in here.”

“Sure,” Dick said, and ignored the part of his brain that was screaming that this was a bad idea. The champagne had dulled that a little bit, at least.

Outside was cool and quiet and almost completely alone. Damian led him around the side of the building, where there was a windowsill in the perfect height and size for sitting. He sat next to Damian, watching his breath puff into the air in white clouds.

“The painting I might keep is _Longing_ ,” Damian said, so quietly Dick almost didn’t hear him. “It’s… rather personal.”

Dick let out a breath in a huff. “That’s understandable.”

“Did you like that one?”

Dick nodded. “It was really emotional. You have a lot of talent.”

Damian was quiet for a moment, and Dick turned to look at him, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Damian’s mouth was covering his and he was being kissed, kissed by Damian, his student—

He knew it was wrong from the second that the distance between them had closed, and he pulled Damian closer, kissing him back like the world was ending, like there was no one who could find them just by turning a corner. Damian’s mouth was hot and wet and tasted like mint gum, and he was dizzy with the champagne and the night air and the coldness seeping into his bones through his cheap wool jacket.

When Damian finally pulled away, his mouth was red as the painting and Dick wanted to kiss him again, lick into his mouth and claim him, every inch of his body—

No, no, he couldn’t be doing this—

“Damian—”

“Do not say anything,” Damian said. “I — I’m sorry. This won’t happen again.”

“Damian.” He grabbed Damian’s arm. He’d already stood and started to leave, and Dick pulled him back. “Don’t go. This shouldn’t have happened, but—”

“Do not patronize me. I understand that it is illegal, even though I am over eighteen. I’ll leave, and you won’t have to do anything. Simply ignore that this happened. I’m sorry.”

He’d never heard Damian apologize so many times. He looked like a caged animal, his eyes darting from side to side as if he were trapped. He just wanted to comfort him, make him feel better, but the champagne was still in his blood and his head was a little fuzzy and somehow he was kissing Damian again, holding him closer, feeling the warmth of his body in the cold.

He was definitely a little drunk. He was definitely drunk when he got his car back and Damian joined him in the passenger seat, shooting off a text to his father about staying at a friend’s house, someone named Colin. He was absolutely drunk when he got into his apartment and pushed Damian down onto his bed and kissed every inch of his skin and turned him into a shaking, crying mess with reddening bruises all down his chest and the inside of his thighs.

He was almost definitely still drunk when he turned off the light and kissed Damian once more before going to sleep.

*

Damian wasn’t gone in the morning, which Dick had been almost certain of happening. He was still asleep when Dick woke up abruptly just past eleven, and half of his chest was lying over Dick’s body. It made breathing a little uncomfortable, but he could watch Damian sleep from here, and it was such a beautiful sight that he stayed still for almost ten minutes before Damian blinked awake.

“…Dick?”

He’d heard Damian say his name so many times last night, but somehow this one time, in the late-morning golden sunshine, was so much more beautiful. He smiled. “Hey, Damian.”

Damian sat up, his dark skin backlit by the sun, and stretched like a cat. “It’s late.”

“We were up late.” Dick grinned, and a flush went across Damian’s face.

“Tt. I suppose. Do you have anything for breakfast?”

“Probably some cereal…”

“Never mind. We’re going out.”

“…Out?” Dick wasn’t sure about that. This was a golden moment, he thought, something that was warm and wonderful and an unbreakable memory that he would cherish for a long time. He wasn’t sure that going out wouldn’t break it.

“I can pay. Come on.” Damian stood, unabashedly naked, and strode towards Dick’s shower. “Save some water with me.”

Despite himself, Dick grinned, and followed.

*

The diner they went to for breakfast — or late lunch, at this point — was small, outside the city, and no one knew either of them. Damian wore Dick’s clothes and ordered waffles with hash browns, and turned his nose up at Dick’s sausages and eggs.

Dick hadn’t known Damian was a vegetarian.

He could see the edge of a hickey over Damian’s scarf, even though he’d tried to leave them in non-obvious places. Snow was falling lightly outside, clouds having formed sometime between them fooling around in the shower and them finally getting to the car without making out in the stairwell, and the moment was so domestic it hurt Dick’s chest.

Damian licked syrup off his hand, and smiled at Dick.

*

When it all fell apart, and he lost his job, and sat alone in his kitchen, this was the moment he held on to. Not any of the ones after — the sneaking around, the early mornings of kissing furtively before Damian made his way home and then to school, the time that they fucked in his classroom one day after school — but this one. The warmth and happiness that threatened to burst out of his chest.

*

He finally saw Damian again when the restraining order was repealed, almost two years later.

*

He had become a bartender, and he came home every night to Damian’s art studio in the living room and their cats asleep on the windowsills and their dog lying in front of the door. He went to bed and lay next to Damian, and pressed a kiss on his sleeping face.

Sometimes, Damian would blink awake for a moment, and smile at him, and whisper, “Goodnight, beloved.”

And he would close his eyes, and sleep.


End file.
